


Another Time, Another Face

by Angelise (angelise7)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e23 Sentinel Too, Episode: s04e01 Sentinel Too, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim jerked his hand away and sank back into the water, silently cursing the brackish liquid that filled his nose and mouth. Something was wrong. Where was Blair, his Guide, his partner, the man he loved but could never have?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Time, Another Face

**Author's Note:**

> Re-work of an old story.

Darkness. Jim Ellison was surrounded by darkness, and the complete lack of light and noise only added to the confusion that had taken hold of his mind since swallowing the mixture force-fed to him by Alex Barnes. 

"Incacha! Help me!" the Sentinel cried out. 

His plea was immediately answered by a voice from his past. "Why do you call me?" the voice asked. 

Jim blindly searched for his beloved friend and teacher. "I'm losing my mind," he whispered hoarsely. 

"Do not be afraid to walk through your dreams," the shaman instructed. "You must allow your spirit to speak." 

Arms and legs refused to function, making it impossible for Jim to reach for the man who had saved his life so many years ago. "All I see is death in my dreams," he admitted, his words barely breaking the silence. 

Incacha's voice echoed throughout the stone chamber. "If there is darkness, then you must face it. The darkness will flee from the light, but the light must shine from within. I cannot bring it to you. What do you see? What do you fear?" 

Jim surged out of the pool of water in which he'd been immersed in for hours. The only word his throat allowed to escape was the name of the man who had healed his wounded soul and set it on the path toward redemption. 

"Blair!" 

"Jim, Jim! Can you hear me? Are you okay?" 

Brian Rafe's face swam into view, and Jim fought the unfamiliar hands assisting him out of the water. 

"Blair. Where's Blair?" he asked. "I need Blair." 

Released without warning, Jim fell back into the water. He groaned in pain when his head hit the edge of the stone vault. 

"You must face the darkness," Incacha's voice reminded him. 

Once again, Jim clawed his way out of the water. "Blair!" 

"Ellison! Take my hand, and I'll pull you out." 

Jim opened his eyes and discovered his captain, Simon Banks, leaning over him, his dark features creased with worry. 

"No, no. I need Blair. Where's Blair?" 

Jim jerked his hand away and sank back into the water, silently cursing the brackish liquid that filled his nose and mouth. Something was wrong. Where was Blair, his Guide, his partner, the man he loved but could never have? 

"Jim, my love. Take my hand, sweetheart. Come back to me. Please." 

Jim rose above the surface of the water and gasped in horrified disbelief at the sight of Joel Taggert reaching for him. 

"What the fuck! Where's Blair?" he demanded. "Where the hell is Blair?" Nearly hysterical with fear, Jim threw himself back into the water, desperate to block out the vision of Joel's thick lips shifting closer to his own. He remained underwater until his lungs screamed for air. 

It was only when his vision began to gray at the edges that he allowed himself to break the surface. Strong arms circled his shoulders the instant he straightened, and his heart plummeted when he opened his eyes and found Rafe kneeling on the ledge beside him. Exhausted both mentally and physically, Jim allowed the younger detective to assist him out of his watery tomb. 

"Where's Blair?" he asked as soon as he and Rafe had exited the crumbling temple. Stretching out his senses he searched for the familiar voice of his Guide. When he couldn't find it, he extended his senses even more and nearly slipped into a zone he was so desperate to locate Blair's heartbeat. 

"Jim! Jim! Come on, man. Snap out of it." 

Gripping the hand that clutched at his shoulder, Jim pulled Rafe around so that they stood face to face. "Brian, where's Blair? I can't find him anywhere." 

Despite the fact that he was standing in the middle of a jungle, Rafe was, as always, impeccably-dressed. Brushing the dirt from the knees of his navy-colored Ralph Lauren chinos, he moved closer and worriedly searched Jim's eyes. "You've been asking for Sandburg since we found you. Why?" He lifted a hand and lightly touched Jim on his cheek. "Are you okay, be---" Cutting off the last word, he moved to stand behind Jim when the two of them noticed Simon approaching. 

"Damn it, Ellison! Next time you run off after a suspect, make damn sure you take along your partner." Simon indicated the man behind Jim. "Good thing Rafe's a light sleeper. No telling what would have happened to your sorry ass if he hadn't followed after you and Barnes." 

Simon shifted his gaze to the body bag being carried out of the temple. "Why in God's name did she drag you all the way out here? She could have killed a hell of a lot more people if she'd released the poison in the city. Just doesn't make sense." 

Jim listened to Simon with only one ear. His main focus was on finding his Guide, and the longer he went without him, the more agitated he became. Distancing himself from the unseen hand stroking his back, he ignored the crestfallen look on Rafe's face and returned his attention to his captain. "Where's Blair? Did Alex do something to him and you're just not telling me?" 

Simon answered the questions with the lift of an eyebrow. Jim felt his anger stir to life, especially when the man turned to Rafe and conversed with him as if they were the only two people standing there. 

"What is he talking about?" Simon asked Rafe. 

Hands clenched in fists, Jim grunted a protest when Rafe stepped between he and Simon, thus preventing him from rearranging his boss' face. 

"He's been asking for . . . ." Rafe glanced over his shoulder and shrugged when Jim hit him with a stern look. "He's been asking for Blair since the moment I pulled him out of the water." 

Forcibly relaxing his hands, Jim took hold of Rafe's shoulders, and none too gently moved him to the side. "Come on, guys, my patience is starting to wear thin, really thin. Just tell me where Blair is?" 

"Sandburg?" Simon yelled. "You're asking about Sandburg?" 

Jim was on the verge throwing the first punch when Simon grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the crowd of Peruvian law enforcement personnel swarming the entrance to the temple. He frowned in confusion when his boss spared a tight smile for the man who dutifully followed after them. Rafe seemed permanently glued to his side, and Jim was starting to get a funny feeling about that particular fact. 

Simon chomped down on his cigar before speaking harshly, "Jim, would you please get your head out of your ass. You know good and well where Sandburg is. He's not---" 

"Jim," Rafe interrupted. "You're tired, you're hurt. Maybe we should shelve this conversation until we get back to the---" 

Jim cut Rafe off with the slash of a hand. "Quit jerking me around, you two. Where the fuck is Blair?" 

With both fists once again clenched at his side, Jim glared at his colleagues. Confusion and anger were quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of panic. Before he could utter another word, blackness settled down upon his overwrought mind and effectively put an end to his search for answers. 

+++++++ 

"Fuck." 

Swearing quietly at the jackhammers pounding away at his brain, Jim opened his eyes. He immediately began heaping curses upon the head of one Thomas Edison for inventing the bright lights blinding him. A damp, icy-cold cloth descended over his eyes, and he sighed with relief despite the way the extreme chilliness burned his skin. 

"Is that better?" 

Another sigh rolled out, but this time it was one of despair instead of relief. Again, the wrong voice was pulling him out of the darkness. And it wasn't that he had anything against Rafe -- the man did indeed have a calming voice -- it just wasn't the voice he needed to hear. 

It wasn't Blair's. 

What made it even worse was that everyone was acting as if they'd never heard of Sandburg or, at the very least, were confused as to why he was asking after the missing anthropologist. Even Simon and Rafe, who at least appeared to know Blair, seemed unable to comprehend why he expected to find the younger man here in the wilds of a South American jungle. 

Also, what the hell was this business about Rafe being his partner? Yes, the man was a good detective, and they'd had no problems working together when the need arose, but Rafe wasn't Blair. He wasn't his Guide, and most importantly, Rafe wasn't the man he craved with all of his heart. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle shake of his shoulder. 

"Jim?" Rafe softly inquired. "Simon's here." 

The damp cloth that had been draped across his eyes was removed, and Jim cautiously cracked one eye open. The sight of his boss peering down at him, his features drawn again with concern, was more than he could handle. He immediately reclaimed the washcloth and slapped it back over his face. 

"Maybe we should've taken him to a hospital," he heard Simon say. 

"Don't think so," Rafe answered. "You know how he hates those places." 

Jim felt the bed beside him dip under someone's weight but was too afraid to check the person's identity. The jackhammers inside his head had finally halted their torment, and he had no doubt they would resume their relentless pounding if he dared move an inch. That included his eyelids. 

Relying on his other senses, he finally surmised that Rafe was his bedmate and was in the process of settling down for a nap. His theory was confirmed when he heard Rafe let out an exhausted yawn. Before he could question the man's presence in _his_ bed, Simon claimed his attention by prodding him in the arm. 

"You plan on joining the living any time soon, Ellison?" 

"Not until you tell me where Blair is," Jim stubbornly answered. 

"Christ Almighty!" Simon barked. "Are we back to that again?" 

The acrid smoke from the match Simon used to light his cigar brought tears to Jim's eyes. His longtime friend instantly misinterpreted their cause. 

"Now don't go gettin' all emotional on me. Jesus, Jim." 

Jim felt Rafe's hand surreptitiously slip into his and offer him a quick squeeze before sliding away. Distracted by the brief show of support, he almost missed what Simon said next. 

" . . . and as far as I know Blair Sandburg is still at River Oaks Rehab Hospital. But then again, you should know this considering the two of you visit the little guy almost every damn weekend." 

Blair? In a rehab hospital? Why? How? And what was this thing with Rafe? We're partners? We visit Blair together? 

Feeling the whisper of a migraine brush against his mind, Jim wisely decided to put the subject of Rafe on the back burner. He instead asked, "Why is Blair in a rehab hospital? What happened to him?" 

"Damn it, Jim. Why all the questions? Did that drug Barnes used on you kill off some of your brain cells? Do I need to haul your ass to the department shrink once we get home?" 

Tired of fighting for answers, Jim muttered, "Just forget it. Forget everything." Rolling over on his side, he found himself face to face with the man everyone seemed to think was his partner. 

"It's okay," Rafe whispered, collecting the damp cloth that had slid off when Jim turned over. Winking at him, he proceeded to expertly toss the cloth straight at Simon and hid his lopsided grin against Jim's shoulder when the damp rag hit its mark. 

"Hey!" Simon looked down at the wet spot on his shirt. "What the hell was that for?" 

Wiping the smile from his face, Rafe rose up on one elbow and sternly cautioned the man hovering over them. "Back off, Simon. There's no telling what mental and physical torment that bitch inflicted upon Jim." He glanced briefly at his partner. "But I'm betting once he gets a solid couple of hours of sleep under his belt, he'll be back to normal." 

Simon waved his cigar through the air. "Humph, I doubt that. When it comes to him, _nothing_ is normal." 

An insistent finger was pressed to his lips a second before he could vocalize a response to his captain's sarcasm. Rafe was not only wise but quick on the draw. Jim held his silence. 

"Why don't we make plans to meet downstairs in the hotel restaurant around seven?" Rafe suggested. "It's, hell, my watch is still set on Cascade time. What time is it?" 

Jim showed the man his watch and received a grateful smile in return. 

"It's two pm now," Rafe continued. "That'll give us at least five hours of downtime before supper. Does that sound okay with you?" 

"Seven pm. Downstairs," Simon acknowledged. "If you insist." 

Jim knew Simon's gaze was boring a hole in the back of his head, but he refused to turn over. He waited until the door had closed behind his boss before offering a genuine smile of gratitude to the man lying next to him. "Thanks for going to bat for me, Brian." 

Rafe lightly patted him on the shoulder. "You would have done the same for me." 

Closing his eyes again, Jim listened to the sounds of Rafe settling down beside him. He was caught by surprise when, after several minutes, his companion broke the silence with a question. 

"You really don't remember what happened to Blair, do you?" 

Jim glanced sideways and found Rafe staring at the ceiling. "No, I honestly don't remember," he answered. " And I'm sorry if this hurts your feelings, but I don't remember anything about you. I don't remember anything about you being here, about us being partners. Nothing is what I remember. Nothing at all." 

"You don't re---" Rafe cleared his throat. "You don't remember us?" 

Rafe's focus never wavered from the ceiling, even when his voice broke, and Jim could sense the sudden tension that took hold of the younger man's body as he waited for the answer to his question. He could hear the elevated heartbeat, the quickened breath and instinctively knew there was nothing he could say that would ease the emotional turmoil Rafe was clearly suffering. 

"Brian." Jim reached out for Rafe, but his fingers closed upon empty air. The man had slid out of the bed and was standing in front of the room's large scenic window, his eyes tightly shut against the bright afternoon sun pouring through the glass. 

"Tell me what you remember," Rafe whispered. 

Jim shifted so that he was sitting on the side of the bed facing the window. "I know this sounds crazy, and I really have no idea how to explain it, but . . . " 

He hung his head and stared at the floor. "This is all wrong, this reality. It's not the reality that existed before I followed Alex into that temple. Blair is my partner, not you. He's been my friend, my Guide, for nearly three years." 

Wearily rubbing his hands over the top of his head, Jim examined the carpet for a few more seconds before glancing up and looking at the man whose gaze was now trained completely on him. "Maybe Simon's right. Maybe Alex drugged me with something that's messed with my mind. I don't know." 

He got to his feet and walked over to join Rafe at the window. Lightly clasping his colleague's shoulder, he asked imploringly, "Would you please tell me about Blair. What happened to him? Why is he in a rehab hospital?" 

Jim fought down the urge to remove his hand when Rafe reached up and grasped it with his own. He needed answers, and the man standing in front of him was possibly the only one willing to provide him with them. "Brian?" 

"Blair Sandburg had just started working with us, with you, on your . . . " Rafe let go long enough to wave his hand through the air. ". . . on your senses. In fact, you were on your way to his place for another training session when the warehouse he lived in blew up. You managed to rescue him and his pet ape, but unfortunately Blair sustained a severe head injury. He's been in a coma for the past two years." 

Jim was caught off guard when Rafe turned suddenly and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "If you had left a few minutes earlier, hadn't turned back to give me a---" Realizing how uncomfortable his actions were making Jim feel, Rafe quickly stepped away and turned back to the window again. 

"Like Simon said, we do indeed visit Blair about every weekend. We've done so since the accident. You keep hoping your senses will help you zero in on whatever it is that's keeping him locked in a coma, but so far, no success. And it's not like you haven't tried your best. Hell, I can't count the number of times you've put yourself into a zone because you were concentrating so hard. It's only by the grace of God that I've been able to pull you out of `em." 

Rafe glanced over his shoulder with a rueful smile on his face. "Good thing you lo--- Um, good thing you don't hold grudges, especially considering how often I've had to hit you in order to snap you out of those zones." 

Jim felt his world tip on its axis. Luckily Rafe recognized the signs of his impeding fall and caught him around the waist before easing him down to the floor. 

"Blair's in a coma. Blair's in a coma," Jim kept repeating to himself, unaware of the way Rafe was holding him close and threading trembling fingers through his hair. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of the fear in Rafe's eyes before the man shifted his gaze to the floor. It was at that moment that Jim decided it would be safer for everyone involved, especially himself, if he simply kept his mouth shut. Hopefully once he got home, got back to familiar surroundings, he'd be able to make sense of it all. 

"I think maybe I should try taking that nap you suggested." 

"Maybe you should," Rafe agreed. 

Jim accepted Rafe's assistance, but once on his feet, he was suddenly overcome with a feeling of extreme weakness and had to lean heavily upon his colleague as they made their way back to the bed. Conflicting emotions and thoughts continued to claw at his mind and heart, and he instinctively grasped Rafe's hand when it became apparent his friend had decided to sleep elsewhere. 

"Don't leave. I mean . . . ." He closely examined Rafe's disheartened features and tugged him back down on the bed beside him. "Hell, I don't know what I mean, Brian. Just don't leave, okay? I need you." 

A tiny sob of relief was abruptly strangled as Rafe turned to face him and guardedly placed his hand on the Jim's abdomen. From the look of trepidation on his companion's face, Jim realized Rafe thought his touch would undoubtedly be rejected and, even though his body demanded he do just that, Jim refused to give into the cruel urge. 

Besides, what if he was wrong? What if this reality was the reality he belonged in? What if the one he thought was real, wasn't? 

Jim watched as Rafe closed his eyes and snuggled closer, moving the hand that had been resting on his belly and sliding it up so that it rested over his heart. More `what ifs' immediately plagued his thoughts. 

What if this man was truly his partner? What if he and Rafe were more than just co-workers? What if they were lovers? Could he risk alienating the one who possibly held the key to his heart? 

No. 

NO! 

Rafe wasn't the man he loved. Blair was. 

Blair by his side, working and living with him as his friend and partner --- that was his reality. Not this one. 

But if those thoughts were true then why was he lying here with his arms wrapped around Brian Rafe and not Blair? Why wasn't Blair cuddled under the covers beside him? 

`Do not be afraid to walk through your dreams,' Incacha's voice came back to haunt him. `You must allow your spirit to speak.' 

Blair is my dream, Jim thought. Always has been. 

The anguished cry of a jaguar echoed through his mind, and Jim heard his shaman's voice again. `You must allow your spirit to speak.' 

`How, Incacha? How?' 

Blinding pain wracked his brain, and Jim gladly surrendered to the blackness that once again swooped down upon him and shoved him into a blessed state of unconsciousness. 

+++++++ 

"Simon wants a report filed before the day is over." 

Jim took Rafe's luggage and stored it in the back of his truck. "You've got to be kidding, right? Shit, Brian, we just got off the plane. I'm beat. You're beat. Simon can damn well wait on his report." 

Expert fingers kneaded the tense muscles in his shoulders, and Jim groaned with appreciation. 

"Why don't you drop me off at the precinct, and I'll write out the report?" Rafe offered. "That'll give you time to air out the loft, unpack and make a quick trip to the grocery store." 

"And just how will you get home?" 

Despite the conversations they'd shared on the long flight back to Cascade, Jim still wasn't sure if he and Rafe actually lived together. He knew, without a doubt, they were lovers, a fact that had been alarmingly driven home when he'd awoken from his nap the day before and discovered Rafe softly biting his nipples and fondling his manhood. Only the insidious weakness that had taken control of his body had kept him from flying out of the bed. He'd pleaded off with a migraine and nearly fainted with relief when Rafe accepted him at his word. 

The remaining portion of that evening had been spent sharing a meal with Simon, who after speaking with Rafe upon their arrival at the restaurant, prudently kept the conversation focused on mundane matters. Unfortunately, curiosity got the best of his captain and, when questioned about his mental status, Jim had, as promised, kept his thoughts to himself. He pretended his earlier confusion was a result of the drugs Alex Barnes had forced him to ingest. Simon readily accepted the offered excuse, but not Rafe. Jim saw the look of uncertainty that flitted across the man's handsome face and knew instinctively his partner still had doubts about him. 

After the meal, Rafe had suggested a brief walk through the gardens that surrounded the hotel. Jim agreed, mainly because he was anxious to postpone the inevitable return to their hotel suite and the king-size bed that monopolized their sleeping quarters. He'd done his best to unobtrusively keep Rafe at arm's length during the evening, but once it was time for bed, there was no denying that he was in serious trouble. 

Jim used the excuse of packing for the return trip home as his reason for not joining Rafe in a shower, but that particular excuse was over and done with by the time his partner returned to bed. Naked and blatantly aroused, Rafe slipped under the covers then beckoned to Jim with a loving smile on his lips and a suggestive thrust of the hips. Sensing no escape, Jim deliberately placed himself into a deep zone and claimed mental and physical exhaustion the second Rafe pulled him out of it. 

Feeling like the world's biggest jerk and unable to think of any more excuses not to join his partner in bed, Jim finally took his place beside Rafe. He'd forced himself to echo the sentiments whispered in his ear and offered to his lips. It left a bad taste in his mouth but fortunately, for him, did the trick. After a few minutes of gentle fondling and light kisses, Rafe spooned in behind him and fell asleep. 

It had been, without a doubt, one of the longest nights of his life. 

"H can give me a lift home." 

Startled out of his thoughts, Jim blinked confusedly at his partner. "Huh?" 

"I said H can give me a lift." 

"Uh, okay." Jim climbed into his truck and only half-listened to his partner as he navigated the airport's covered parking. A plan had begun to form in his mind when Rafe suggested he drop him off at the precinct. 

"How `bout we get a bite to eat once we reach the city?" he asked. His stomach had finally stopped doing the rumba and was now growling to beat the band. 

"Sounds good to me," the man beside him agreed. "How `bout we stop off at Wonderburger?" 

Jim jumped when Rafe gripped his thigh then slid his hand precariously close to his groin. 

"God, I can't wait to wrap my hands around one of those triple-beef monsters," Rafe moaned. Leering suggestively, he licked his lips. "And fries. Gotta have some of those to-die-for batter-dipped spuds." 

Rafe patted Jim on the thigh while moving as close as his seatbelt would allow. "Remind me to super-size my order, babe." 

Jim nearly shot through the roof when Rafe shifted his hand upwards. A light brush of his groin followed by a rubbing of his belly had his heart beating triple time. 

"Super size. You got it," he mumbled. 

"You know," his partner continued, "it's a wonder the two of us haven't gone into severe withdrawal considering how long it's been since we had our daily dose of grease and heartburn." 

Rafe patted him on the stomach once more before moving back to his side of the truck. Jim thought he was in the clear and had to bite back a scalding protest when the hand that had tortured him seconds earlier returned. It took up permanent residence on his right thigh and refused to budge. 

"Come on, Jim," Rafe insisted. "Get the lead out. I'm starved." 

Jim shook his head in disbelief as he turned onto the interstate that would take them home to Cascade. Him and Rafe eating at Wonderburger? On a regular basis? 

Yep, he mused, he was definitely living in The Twilight Zone. 

+++++++ 

"Why, Detective Ellison, aren't you a little early for your weekly visit?" 

Jim smiled at the woman sitting at the nurse's station. "Had a day off and thought I would come by," he offered in explanation. 

Nodding her head, the nurse rose from her seat and indicated he follow her down the hall. "And just where is that sexy partner of yours? I just love watching you and him together." The petite brunette pretended to fan her face. "The way he looks at you nearly sets this place on fire." 

Jim firmly put the brakes on that particular image. It was bad enough Rafe had tried to suck the air out of his lungs during the kiss they'd exchanged upon pulling into the police garage earlier. He didn't even want to think about the heated looks that had this nurse so worked up. 

"You're right," he answered instead. "Brian is quite a guy." 

They stopped outside the last door, and Jim instinctively zeroed in on his Guide's heartbeat. Its rhythm was slow and steady, and for the first time since he had awakened from his drug-induced vision, he felt his heart and mind settle into a peaceful harmony. 

"I'll tell Brian you missed him," Jim said as he pushed the door open and hastily made his way over to the bed in the middle of the room. He let out a grunt of frustration when the nurse followed him inside and began fussing about Blair. Gritting his teeth, he watched as she rearranged his Guide's pillows and straightened the sheets and blankets covering his wasted frame. Minutes passed, testing his patience to the max. Just as he was about to start insisting the nurse leave them alone, she patted Blair on the cheek and gave a cursory glance at her patient's IV fluids. 

"Is there anything you need, Detective Ellison?" she asked. 

What I need is for you to leave and leave now! Jim counted to ten before offering the middle-aged woman a tight smile. "I'll call you if I do. Thanks." 

He was at Blair's side, gripping his hand, before the door had time to close. "Chief, Chief, I'm here," he called to the unconscious man. Sitting down, he lifted pale, unresponsive fingers to his face and pressed them against his cheek. "Open those baby blues. Give me the look that drives me absolutely crazy." 

When Blair's eyes remained closed, Jim shut his own and opened his senses, anxious to replenish his memory with each and every nuance that was specific to his Guide. His fingers automatically mapped the gaunt features as he inhaled a scent that had his nose wrinkling in protest. The smell was one of sickness, of hospitals, and Jim felt his eyes water with the threat of tears. Even if this reality was not his own, he couldn't help but feel it was his fault that Blair was in this condition. 

"I'm sorry, Blair. So goddamn sorry." 

Dialing down his sense of smell, Jim continued to catalog the changes in the man he loved above all others. His heart broke when his fingers skimmed not only over Blair's prominent ribcage, but his sunken abdomen and bony hips as well. 

"Please wake up. Wake up and tell me what I did wrong." 

Jim pulled his Guide into his arms and buried his face in the lifeless curls that spilled across the pillow. Suddenly, the vision of Incacha speaking to him rose up in his mind. 

`Do not be afraid to walk through your dreams,' the shaman's voice reminded him. `You must allow your spirit to speak. If there is darkness, then you must face it. The darkness will flee from the light, but the light must shine from within.' 

Jim lifted his head and gazed at the black jaguar that suddenly appeared next to Blair. "Okay, spirit, start talking. Help me face this darkness that fills my soul." 

Flicking an ear in response, the reclining jaguar stared at him as if to say, `Your problem, not mine.' 

Jim refocused his gaze on the man he held in his arms and nearly zoned on Blair's steady heartbeat as he struggled to find the words that would explain his feelings. 

"I fucked up, fucked up in a major way. This thing with Alex, it's messed with my head, with my heart, messed with us." 

Jim let slip a tortured sigh before lowering his head to Blair's chest. "I love you, Blair. Plain and simple. And believe it or not, I've been in love with you for nearly a year." 

He reached for Blair's nearest hand. Bringing it to his lips, he tenderly kissed each finger. "I thought my days were numbered when you almost died from eating that pizza doused with Golden. And yeah, I know I should have told you then that I loved you, but I couldn't. I just couldn't." 

Jim lifted his head enough to kiss Blair's chin. "I was one confused bastard. Wanting you in my life, in my bed and too damn scared, too damn homophobic, to face my true feelings for you. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to watch you date those men? How crazy it made me every time you came home totally drenched in their scent? I wanted that scent to be mine, wanted it to be the one saturating your clothes, your skin." 

Closing his eyes, he laid his head back down and spent several seconds listening to his Guide's heartbeat. "You have no idea how scared I was, Blair. Scared shitless of discarding a lifestyle that had served me well for nearly four decades. Suddenly discovering you're gay at the ripe old age of forty is a guaranteed shocker, let me tell you. I mean, one minute I'm straight as an arrow, enjoying the ladies. The next I'm jerking off in the shower to steamy hot fantasies starring my closest male friend. If that's not grounds for immediate admission to the local loony bin then I don't know what is." 

Jim leaned back in his chair and wearily ran a hand over his face. "And then this thing with Alex rears its ugly head. What in the hell was I thinking, kicking you out of the loft? It's like my brain disowned my heart, and out the door went our friendship, not to mention your stuff." 

He moved back to the bed and cupped the left side of Blair's face. "Shit, I'm not making any sense, am I? Maybe I should check in with the guys who carry the white jackets. In fact, I'm sure after my performance this weekend, Simon has already arranged for me to occupy one of those deluxe padded cells." 

A noise drew his gaze to his spirit guide, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes in disgust when he noted the jaguar had fallen asleep with his head resting on Blair's shoulder. Mimicking the large cat, Jim dropped his head down on Blair's chest and closed his eyes, promising himself that it would only be for a few short minutes. 

Before sleep could claim him, he nuzzled his way inside the loose gown Blair wore and pressed a kiss over the younger man's heart. "I love you, Blair Jacob Sandburg," he whispered drowsily. "And if you'd just wake up, I'd be more than happy to share this earth-shattering news with you. Shoot, I'd even go as far as to take out a billboard, even shout it to the entire world if you'd just open those eyes of yours and smile at me one more time." 

Yawning, Jim tucked Blair's hand beneath his cheek. "Are you listening, Chief? I'm baring my soul to you, and you know how I hate talkin' about my feelings. Wake up, Blair. Wake up and tell me that you . . . ." 

Twin snores assaulted the silence that descended upon the shadow-filled room, and neither man nor spirit noticed the fingers that twitched to life and caressed a cheek lined with exhaustion and worry. 

+++++++ 

"Jim, are you listening to me?" 

Fingers waggled in front of his face, and Jim unconsciously fixated on them. "Come on in, man," he heard Blair say with a raspy voice. "The water's nice." 

With confusion reigning supreme, all Jim could do was latch onto Blair's hand. Air rushed in and out of his lungs, cutting off the words that rose immediately to his lips. 

"That's okay, Big Guy," Blair muttered. "I understand. Scared of the water, huh? Not that I should be surprised considering all the ladies you've dated over the past few years. If that wasn't a surefire indication of your sexual pref---" 

Blair's loud squeak of surprise immediately brought two nurses to the door, and Jim felt his cheeks color with embarrassment at being discovered ravishing his best friend's mouth. Fortunately, the enthusiastic sounds Blair was making drowned out the women's startled gasps. 

"Scared of the water?" Jim asked. "Hell, no. I'm more than willing to dive right into the deep end and swim all day and all night, especially if you'll agree to swim with me and promise to keep me from drowning." 

"Jim? Have you lost touch with reality?" Blair knocked him on the head a couple of times. 

Jim caught sight of the jaguar stalking a recognizable wolf on the other side of the room, and again he laughed. His spirit had spoken loud and clear, and his true love had heard, releasing him from the darkness and allowing the light within to burst forth and illuminate the reality he'd hungered after for years. 

Shifting his gaze to Blair's beautiful smile, he swallowed the emotions choking him and whispered huskily, "Let me ask you three questions, and then I'll tell you if I've lost touch with reality." 

Blair released his hold on Jim's shirt. "Ask away." 

Jim re-captured his Guide's hands and held them in a crushing grip. "One, are you my partner?" 

"Yep." 

"Do you believe me when I say I love you?" 

Blair licked his lips and grinned. "Considering the kiss you just laid on me, I'd definitely have to answer `yes' to that question. Wow! Maybe I should start calling you Hotlips." 

Jim swooped in and proved he was worthy of the new nickname. "Third and most importantly, is Rafe gay?" 

His eyes nearly as wide as an ocean, Blair somewhat choked on his answer. "Uh, are you, uh . . . for heaven's sake, Jim, Rafe is as straight as straight can be. Why in the world did you ask that?" His partner pinned him with _the look._ "Don't tell me you've gone kinky all of a sudden. Come on, Jim. I said try the water, not dive all the way to the bottom." 

Cocking his head to the side, he rubbed his chin. "Although, if you're seriously considering a threesome, Rafe wouldn't be a bad choice. He is kinda easy on the eyes, not to mention has one fine ass. Of course, if he's as anal as you, and I'm thinking he might be considering how meticulous he is about his clothes, then I will definitely have to lay down some ground rules. No way in hell am I'm gonna be the one going to the dry cleaners every day of the we---" 

Ignoring the possibilities Blair's suggestion stirred to life, Jim wrapped his arms around his Guide and kissed him into one very satisfying and lengthy silence. A victorious grin spread across his face when his breathless partner begged for more. 

"Again. Kiss me again, Jim. Please." 

"Never fear," Jim happily promised. "There's more where that came from." 

Taking a seat on the bed, he hauled Blair into his arms for some serious cuddling. Several bone-melting kisses and rib-crushing hugs later, Jim happily answered his lover's previous question, "Oh yeah, I'm definitely in touch with this reality. No bones about it." 

The end

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